


In My Command

by annejumps



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Awkwardness, Begging, Community: kink_bingo, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, First Time, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All right, so he’d have to put Arthur at ease. Shit, of course, he was uncomfortable, if he had those knickers on. Nervous, embarrassed, uncomfortable, wearing little silk knickers. Eames grinned to himself, hiding it by turning away until he could affect a neutral expression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Command

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) Round 5 for the square _orgasm denial/control_. Beta'd by [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/pseuds/anatsuno). Title is from the Crowded House song.
> 
> A sequel to [Perfect Fit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/456706).

Eames was starting to second-guess himself. This wasn’t something he enjoyed. Analyzing a plan, that was one thing. Doubting yourself was another.

It just seemed too impossible that Arthur was sitting in the passenger seat of Eames’ car as they left the airport, stiff and quiet, flushed either due to the English weather or with some discomfort he wasn’t willing to talk about.

It seemed impossible because, since their phone call, Eames had been able to think of nothing else but Arthur dragging him into a men’s room at the airport, wanton and careless of getting caught, putting his hands all over Eames. Moaning when Eames’ hands inexorably made their way under Arthur’s pin-neat clothes and found those lovely little black silk knickers Eames had given him for just the occasion. Arthur whispering “Don’t stop” against Eames’ lips, breathless, panting as Eames made him come.

But off the plane, Arthur hadn’t said much other than pleasantries, had kept his face blank, almost sullen, or perhaps that was just his usual thoughtful pout and Eames was overthinking it. His glances at Eames were inscrutable, almost shy. Far cry from the minx Eames had _phone sex_ with.

Eames glanced over at him at a stoplight. Arthur was frowning, looking out the window. He turned to catch Eames looking, and started. Eames caught him blushing, and cocked a brow. Arthur said nothing, and Eames returned his attention to driving.

Well. Eames supposed he should have expected this. The phone sex -- that was a massive departure from their previous relationship. They hadn’t even kissed. Eames glanced back at Arthur, and watched him bite his lip, unaware he was being observed.

Arthur was nervous, he realized.

Eames felt a jolt of surprise. Arthur, nervous?

Yes. Yes, of course. Maybe even embarrassed.

All right, so he’d have to put Arthur at ease. Shit, of course, he was uncomfortable, if he had those knickers on. Nervous, embarrassed, uncomfortable, wearing little silk knickers. Eames grinned to himself, hiding it by turning away until he could affect a neutral expression.

He made small talk on the way to his flat, trying to distract Arthur at least a bit. Once there, he took Arthur’s coat. “Make yourself comfortable. Anything to drink, love?” Eames asked, faultlessly polite.

“Gin and tonic.” Arthur looked around and sat gingerly on a barstool -- it was subtle, but Eames caught it the careful way he handled himself, the way he tried not to let Eames see.

He hung up their coats, got Arthur’s drink and mixed one for himself, and sat on the other stool. “Now then. Perhaps you’ll tell me what’s got you out of sorts, hm?”

“Out of sorts?” Arthur took a long drink.

“Yes. You seem a bit put out and I’m afraid I’m not sure why.”

“Oh.” Arthur blushed, and paused. Eames waited. “I thought you’d -- jump me,” he admitted. “Shove me into a men’s room or something. And then you didn’t, and we just... drove to your apartment, and....” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Eames laughed. “I was waiting for you to drag me into a stall.”

Arthur met his gaze, and scoffed. “Why would I when you said you’d....” He shrugged.

“What, love?”

“You said you’d... peel off my knickers. Right away. Or something like that.”

Good Lord, Arthur sounded ridiculous saying “knickers.” Eames was enchanted. “I did, didn’t I? That’s right.” Eames shook his head at himself. “Well, we bollocksed that up rather nicely.”

“We can start over,” Arthur said instantly, setting down his drink.

“How’s that, shall I drag you off to the loo and grope you? Rather less exciting with us being the only two here.”

“Eames, come on.” Impatience, that was a good sign. In this instance, anyway.

“All right, pet. Come here.” Eames patted his knees. Arthur blinked at him, and stood. He moved to stand between Eames’ legs, and Eames took a moment to admire Arthur so close before gently cupping his jaw and kissing him.

Arthur’s lips were soft, smooth, dry. That is, until he parted them, slid his tongue into Eames’ mouth. Eames’ pulse raced, breath stuttering slightly at the realization that he was, at last, kissing Arthur, tasting him.

Eames put his hands on Arthur’s hips, pulling him closer. Arthur rested his hands on Eames’ arms with some hesitation, but there was very little hesitation in his kiss. Like the man himself, it was neat, swift, precise, and devastating.

Suddenly, Eames was seized with a need to make Arthur stumble, to take him off guard and see him catch up. He slipped a finger between the waistband of Arthur’s impossibly narrow trousers and felt around for the hem of his underwear. Once he felt the lace hem, he tugged, and Arthur gasped. To his credit, however, Arthur kept kissing him, and pressed closer, his fingers digging into Eames’ arms. Eames hummed, pleased. He slid his finger along the waistband of the knickers until he reached the front, and then unbuttoned his trousers. At that, Arthur did pull back, lips parted and eyes dark, exactly how Eames had imagined him looking after a thorough kiss and yet so much the better for being real. He tugged Arthur’s trousers down his hips just slightly and heard Arthur inhale as if to speak.

“The better to peel these knickers off you, my dear,” Eames said, low, close.

“Don’t, yet,” Arthur said, and his voice was lovely and raspy, pure sex, in just those two words.

“Everything else, then,” Eames said, taking hold of the soft cashmere of Arthur’s jumper, pulling it over his head. Arthur watched him as Eames unbuttoned his dress shirt, pulled it off, and placed it over the jumper on the seat of the barstool. Arthur took off his undershirt himself, hasty, and toed off his shoes. He stood there barechested and silent, trousers hanging down his narrow hips, inches of the black silk visible. Eames stood, kissed Arthur very firmly, and moved a hand to his shoulder, pushing him gently but firmly down. Arthur took the cue, and sank to the floor with him.

They were on their knees. Eames pulled Arthur flush to him, hands on his silk-clad hips, kissing him again, and soon enough, Arthur was grinding against him, a hint of wantonness, of desperation in the little movements, the way he was breathing harder. Yes, that was more like it. Arthur’s hard cock, pinned between them, was making Eames’ mouth water at the very thought of it.

Eames felt greedy now, and he kissed Arthur accordingly, deep and clinging. His hands smoothed over the silk to cup his arse, to squeeze it. Arthur’s breath hitched. Eames felt a deep sense of personal victory at finally having Arthur’s arse in his hands, and enjoyed pulling Arthur snugly against him, thrilling again when Arthur rubbed against him.

Arthur’s trousers had now slipped down to his knees, to pool on the floor, and Eames moved one hand between them to cup the front of the knickers. The fabric had some give and stretch, but they still had to be uncomfortable. Eames grinned widely; Arthur was fairly panting now.

Eames rubbed him through the silk. Arthur made a little whimpering sound, and broke the kiss.

“Are you terribly uncomfortable, Arthur?” Eames whispered, amused, shifting back to look down at him. “Oh,” he said, before he could quite stop himself. Arthur was a vision, his cock straining to escape the silk, his precome dampening the fabric and glistening on the lightly haired skin under his navel, on that lovely flat abdomen. “Oh, that’s what I’ve been waiting to see,” Eames murmured, half to himself, a fingertip tracing over the silk covering the head of Arthur’s cock. Arthur visibly shuddered.

“I’ll leave these on you for a while longer, shall I,” Eames whispered. Arthur swallowed, and nodded.

Eames rubbed the backs of his knuckles along the length of Arthur’s cock as he leaned in to kiss him again. Arthur put his arms around his shoulders as he pressed himself against Eames, a gesture that made Eames’ heartbeat skitter. His other hand went to the small of Arthur’s back, fingers dipping to touch the top of his cleft. Arthur squirmed into the touch, and pressed forward again.

“I can’t wait to make you come in these,” Eames whispered against Arthur’s mouth. Arthur hummed in agreement.

But suddenly a much better idea came to him. “Or maybe I can,” he said, and Arthur blinked at him, dazed.

Eames worked his fingers under the silk, nudging it down a bit, and wrapped his hand around Arthur’s cock; Arthur gasped and shuddered. Eames watched him squeeze his eyes shut briefly, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching for just a moment.

He took his time stroking Arthur slowly, exploring the way he felt in his hand. Arthur’s cock was as gorgeous as the rest of him, and he was so hard it had to be painful. He leaked copiously over Eames’s fingers.

“Got your knickers all wet again, I see,” Eames whispered.

“What can I say,” Arthur got out.

Eames gave him a proper stroking, eating up the way Arthur rocked his hips in time. However, just as Arthur instinctively tried to pick up the pace, Eames slowed, and squeezed the head of his cock. Arthur huffed in frustration, frowning beautifully. Eames waited until he went still and then started again, slowly ramping up.

“Eames,” Arthur complained, and Eames promptly shut him up with a kiss. Arthur clutched at him, rocking into his grip. He got more frantic, and Eames stopped. Arthur growled in frustration, broke the kiss, and stared at him, flushed, eyes black.

Eames raised his brow, telegraphing _Well? Do you understand?_ and started very slowly stroking Arthur again. Arthur nodded, cheeks going pinker, looking down but to the side, then glancing up at Eames through his dark lashes. Eames kissed his cheek, and rubbed his thumb over Arthur’s frenulum; Arthur took a deep breath.

“Beg me,” Eames said, low.

Arthur went still. Eames stroked him, steady. “What?” Arthur asked, breathless but still with a growl in his voice.

“Beg me,” Eames repeated, jerking Arthur just a bit faster.

Arthur scoffed. “I won’t--” Eames stopped moving his hand. “Eames--”

Eames chuckled softly, gave Arthur a squeeze, and then started stroking him again. Arthur’s hands went to Eames’ wrists, and Eames tsked at him.

“Now, Arthur, all you have to do is beg me to let you come so you can mess up your lovely knickers,” Eames whispered, and pressed kisses along Arthur’s jaw, to nip at his earlobe. Arthur groaned. Eames had almost forgotten about his other hand, and he dipped his finger along Arthur’s crack. Arthur panted, his breath gusting over Eames’ neck.

“I won’t... beg you,” Arthur insisted nonetheless, beautifully stubborn.

“You will,” Eames said, now stroking Arthur steadily, with no helpful pauses. “You won’t come unless you ask me and I say you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Arthur panted.

“Is it? You seemed to like it on the phone.”

“That-- oh, fuck. That was different.” There was less conviction in Arthur’s tone. “You didn’t make me ask then.”

“Well, I’m making you ask now.”

“You just told me to come,” Arthur continued. “Before.” There was a touch of sweat on his upper lip.

“Arthur. Beg me to let you come.” Eames put a little steel in his voice, and Arthur seemed to stifle a whimper. Eames kissed him, sucking on his tongue, stroking him faster. Suddenly, Arthur broke the kiss.

“Eames,” Arthur started, breathless. He dropped his gaze to the sight of Eames’ hand on his cock, and moaned quietly. Eames waited. “Eames, please,” Arthur said in a rush.

“What’s that?”

Arthur couldn’t tear his gaze away from his cock in Eames’ hand. “Please, please. Please let me come,” Arthur gasped, blunt fingernails digging into Eames’ forearms.

Eames smiled, brushing his lips over Arthur’s jaw, ghosting a kiss under his ear. He shifted back, and lifted his hand from Arthur’s backside to tip up his chin and meet his gaze.

“Please,” Arthur said.

“Arthur. Come for me,” Eames said, too softly to be an order.

Arthur shuddered in relief, letting his forehead drop gently against Eames’, both of them looking down to watch Arthur start to come over Eames’ fingers.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck,” Arthur whispered shakily. “Don’t stop.”

“No, love,” Eames whispered back in reassurance, working Arthur through every last bit of his peak. Arthur came and came, the result of hours of frustration. His harsh breaths were now hot on Eames’ cheek, not lost against a phone on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

Arthur leaned against him, arms around him, until his breathing returned to normal.

“This is disgusting,” he said eventually, chuckling, looking down at the mess on his belly. “I need to get these off.”

“No, don’t,” Eames said, swiftly unbuckling his belt, undoing his fly. “Let me--”

“Eames--”

“I can’t pass up this chance.” Hand slick with Arthur's come, Eames drew out his cock and started to stroke, and Arthur loosely cupped his hand, watching, intent, cheeks still flushed. With Arthur’s attention, it wasn’t long until Eames came, in great spurts over Arthur’s thoroughly ruined little silk knickers, his abdomen, his spent cock. Eames committed the image to memory.

“That’s not fair,” Arthur remarked, without heat, voice a bit strained. “I didn’t make you wait.”

“Oh, but you did,” Eames said, smiling and breathless, and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/), [Amy,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asunder) Liz, and Julia for all your help!


End file.
